


Hulk Goes Wild About Asgard

by twinkleflange



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 14:24:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7511714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twinkleflange/pseuds/twinkleflange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor facilitates a cross cultural exchange. Bruce is somewhat vexed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hulk Goes Wild About Asgard

The team were debriefing after a short but destructive skirmish with some giant telekinetic crustaceans, and they had reached the point in proceedings that Bruce loathed.

“So at this point, the Hulk charged towards a small school of the belligerents and tore up a…”

Bruce stared at the ceiling, trying to tune it out. It was a double-edged sword: if he showed how close these things could get him to hulking out, they might well have let him off. But while that would have certainly been a relief, he would have had to endure everyone’s furtive looks, that familiar mixture of pity and fear. 

Finally, it was over. Bruce paused to grab a coffee from the convenient complimentary SHIELD cafe. They did some things right. He had one sip of the delicious bitterness before he heard somebody approaching. A loud somebody. Christ, why did it have to be Thor?

“My friend, your discomfort in these meetings does not go unnoticed.” Thor’s voice was unusually gentle. It hurt more than his battlefield register at point-blank range. Bruce focused on his breathing. “In my native realm, tales of your deeds would echo through legend. Mayhap a visit to Asgard would resolve the rift with your green warrior self.” Bruce grimaced and took a boiling gulp of coffee, nearly choking.  **_Hot! Smash?_ ** _ No. There's no danger. Stay inside.  _

“I appreciate the thought, Thor, but I really don’t think a trip to Asgard is a good idea. I have enough on my plate without having to answer for a transdimensional diplomatic crisis.” Thor nodded.

“Sounds like we need to go to plan B”, said Tony who had suddenly materialised in that irritating way he had. 

“Plan…?” and he felt his limbs lock in place. He vaguely remembered Stark toying with a non-lethal paralysis device. He had criticised the first-in-man trials as…

And he was flying through multiple dimensions, and what the hell he said no so angry  **_angry ANGRY TRAPPED BREAK FREE SMASH..._ **

* * *

 

Bruce was used to waking in unfamiliar places with no clothes on, but this one had to be the oddest. As he came to, groaning at the familiar battery-acid hangover sensation of post-Hulk-out, a room swam into his vision which somehow reminded him of  _ Game of Thrones _ and  _ Star Trek _ (the original series, of course) at the same time.

He sat up. _Asgard_. He pulled away the silken coverings and stood, looking around. He was in a good-sized bedchamber, sumptuously appointed with all manner of drapes and hangings. A set of clothes had been put out for him. Well, robes would be a more accurate descriptor. He sighed. Of course, they were purple. The problem was he hated clothes shopping, so his wardrobe mostly consisted of stuff people had bought him. People who saw he wore a lot of purple, and assumed he liked it. A classic runaway positive feedback loop. 

He pulled open a door to find a bathroom, or rather a huge wetroom with discreetly placed drains in the floor and a large, central showerhead. There were also jets in the walls. The thought of a shower was very appealing, but he had no idea of how to activate it.

Water began to spray onto his body, at the perfect temperature.  _ Ah. Telepathy. _

He stood in the shower and allowed himself to be pummeled clean by mind-guided jets of water, some of which contained soaps and perfumes, judging by the smell. It was rather lovely. Once he was thoroughly clean, warm air currents left him quite dry. A fleeting awareness of tight skin on his face and back released a film of some kind of emollient.

He put on the robes, and opened the curtains.

Outside of his ground-floor room, a huge trestle table had been set up with enough food to feed a hungry village. The Avengers, joined by what could only be Sif and the Warriors Three, gave up a resounding cheer (quite sincere on the part of the Asgardians, but with a touch of mischief for everyone else. Bruce’s mind had conceived of matter transfer technology, but if pressed would have been quite unable to picture Captain America honest-to-god  _ smirking _ ).

**_Food!_** roared the voice within him. Food, agreed Bruce.

He walked out, and froze. Beyond the table, lay a scene of utter devastation. Glittering piles of rubble lay in every direction, flanked by Asgardians assessing the damage.

The other guy had really outdone himself.  **_Hulk smash puny gods. They smash hard, but still smash._ **

Oh god. Gods.

“Come, Friend Bruce, break your fast with us.”  **_Food!_ **

Bruce took a seat next to Tony, and on the way spoke low in Thor’s ear. “I’m still angry with you. I just also happen to be very, very hungry.” Thor managed to look more or less contrite.

Tony nudged him excitedly. “Did you see the showers?!”

Bruce didn’t recognise any of the food, but judging by how the team were attacking it, it was suitable for humans, and all tasted good. Steve sat next to Thor, ramrod straight and elbows off the table, tearing chunks off what looked like the roasted hind leg of a goat-sized animal with his teeth. Natasha’s eyes gleamed as she alternated bites of greenish-hued bread and some kind of blood sausage, and Hawkeye was delightedly scoffing a large, orange fruit, juice dripping from his wrists.

Beside every platter stood an overflowing tankard of foaming nut-brown ale. Bruce normally eschewed all stimulants (apart from tea) to be on the safe side, and in any case, had never been a beer for breakfast kind of guy. But when in Asgard… besides, if he ever needed a drink, it was now.  **_Food first._ **

He grabbed a quadruped leg and tucked in.

Fandrall looked solemn. “Thor explained to us how though you fight valiantly as your warrior-self, when you awaken, you hold no memories of the joy of battle, as though t’were naught but a forgotten dream.” Bruce stared dumbly at the Asgardians, who all looked as though he spoke of somebody with a catastrophic and tragic disability. “I have wept for you, friend, for true it is a tale as sad as any bard has told. ” He brightened. “But it is that which gave me the idea! I called the finest bards in all Asgard to witness your triumph, and before evenfall they shall regale us with tales of your might!”

Fandrall beamed at him proudly. Bruce could do nothing but smile and say “Thank you. I… I look forward to hearing that.” Volstagg laughed and clapped him on the back. Tony, meanwhile, couldn't wait to recount his victories. 

“I made eight-year-old, LOTR-obsessed me so proud. I entranced those Asgardian beauties not with my unfathomable wealth, nor my depthless azure eyes, nor my awe-inspiring abs, but -- if you’ll indulge me with a direct quote -- ‘thy smithery would be the envy of the dwarves, o mortal. Thou art truly a champion of Midgard, but methinks those clever fingers might find worthy employment in these parts also.’ I think I just developed a fetish for the second person singular.”

Bruce had to smile a little at the humblebrag. ( _ He’d _ finished reading Lord of the Rings at age seven.) At first he’d taken a strong dislike to the man for his constant wind-ups and showboating (not to mention his occasionally terrifying lack of scientific rigour) but after a while he’d realised how refreshing it was to have somebody who wasn’t scared of him, either for his intellect or his other self.

The Avengers could put away an alarming amount of food at the best of times, let alone after a battle, but they had to admit defeat at breakfast Asgard-style. Volstagg seemed troubled.

“By Asgard, you mortals exist on barely a husk and crumb. If the cooks should see their work thus spurned, they may fall into melancholy and gnashing of teeth, and be unable to work their craft.” Steve valiantly tried to swallow another mouthful, but Volstagg waved his hand. “Nay, friend, do not sicken yourself. I shall, er, ensure the kitchens endure no offence.” The Asgardians bellowed with laughter, as Volstagg began tucking into the leftovers as though he hadn’t eaten for hours.

* * *

 

After breakfast, Thor escorted Bruce to the court of Odin.

They entered a vast and glimmering hall, so silent Bruce could hear Thor’s breathing beside him. They advanced side by side towards the throne, and when Thor bent on one knee, Bruce copied him.

“Rise, Bruce Banner.” He did. The Allfather reminded him of a cross between his undergraduate supervisor and Yellowstone National Park.

“My son tells me that you are one of Midgard’s wisest scholars. And the condition of my palace and grounds, the injuries of my royal guard, and the pain in my coccyx tell me that you are also one of its mightiest warriors.” Bruce focused on his breath. The god bowed graciously and said “The hospitality of Asgard is yours.”


End file.
